


12 days

by Cancer



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Chan, Drama, F/M, Genderswap, Humor, M/M, Marathon, challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cancer/pseuds/Cancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve days, twelve histories, twelve pairings, twelve x-mas days: all the slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at the first day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [12 días](https://archiveofourown.org/works/970716) by [Cancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cancer/pseuds/Cancer). 



> My friends and I were talking about superheroes and then this came out... this doesn't have a plot at all, It's just twelve one-shot/drabbles that we wrote through twelve days.  
> This is a translation, the original is in spanish and is mine. Someone asked me for translate this (actually I don't understand why someone would read this, but well). I'm still studying english, so, I'm not that good but I thought this could be good for me. I hope my english doesn't give you cancer. My friend help me with this, she is an awesome beta and also help me to translate some chapters. I hope you like it.  
> GRACIAS, DIANA, TE AMO UN MONTÓN.

Day 1: Thor/Steve

 

Steve was always devout, brought up to believe in one God and it's absolute and infinite power, creator of everything and a righteous father before anything else, in one God that would count the souls at the end of time.

Steve was always devoted and at the rainy nights he looked at the sky, at the roar of lightning, at the incredible strength and at the disorderly accuracy of the rays, and he wondered like a child, if perhaps God was angry. What kind of man or creature could unleash the wrath of God, who was an infinitely patient and benevolent being, and he thought it was probably the doubt what made God feel frustrated, angry, the way that men doubted.

When Steve awoke from the frozen dream he was still devoted. He didn't know what was God's plan for him, because if he was still alive or he could live again after so much time, It had to be something important, something that he should do right; the world needed him again.

Steve was always devoted, even when he woke up after all those years sleeping in the ice, so when he saw Thor on the top of the hill, controlling lightning, he didn't want to believe it was real.

All those stormy nights couldn't not be God. It couldn't be an infatuated man, and Thor could not be a God.

Steve wasn't skeptical, and he didn't know what kind of magic was using that man who came from another world that Steve didn’t understand, but Steve saw a lot of things before going to sleep, things that supposedly shouldn't happen, shouldn't exist; so he took his shield, prayed to God and did what he had to do.

Thor is not a God for Steve, but every time he looks at him ahead, when Thor puts his hand on his shoulder with his imposing presence and congratulated him on his good work, Steve is grateful like with anyone else.

Thor is not a God for Steve, but he is still someone who can control the thunders, who does murk the storms, who made him think when he was a child that was divine wrath out there.

And Thor is not a God for Steve, but when he looks at him, his legs falter, he feels again like a simple human and wants to punch Thor just for make sure that he can do it. That while he is there and not at Asgard, Steve can punch him, he is as vulnerable like him. And while the rain falls at night and the assumed God of Thunder is playing on the roof, Steve feels angry with every thunder that falls to the ground. He goes up there just to face him, to tell him that he is no God, not his God, and not of many others, but when he has him again face to face, he remembers that he still can control thunders.

Steve can hurt Thor, he can hurt him and still is not enough to prove he is not a God, because the History says and the sky confirms it. Doesn't matter how weak his body is, so he pulls the layer and kisses him, because the gods do not falter in spirit, do not give up, are firm like no other creature can be, Steve knows that, and expects for Thor to back off, to doubt, to put him apart and to judge him, to emotionally break, a sore that unleashes mixed feelings. But Thor does not, he holds him firmly until Steve can be convinced of whatever he was trying to prove, Mjolnir still in his hands, some rays really close.

Steve was always devoted, but is not an idiot and he knows what he sees.

Thor is still not a God for Steve, but right there on the roof, smiling with no reason, as the rain intensifies, Steve knows that the wrath does not necessarily brings storms.


	2. at the second day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Clint/Thor

It’s not about whom drink more but about who can spend more time drinking without doing some stupidity that compromises his integrity for the rest of the year, and Thor knows he will not be the first to fall. He knows too that most of them have enough common sense to don’t get in the game.

Others, like Clint, think themselves capable of doing things that they obviously can’t and they don’t give up even after the tenth beer, when he’s tongue-tied and he hangs on the bottle like it’s the only solid thing at his reach, because the table is moving in circles, man, someone should stop it. Thor laughs, because he’s at the twenty-first beer and lights are just a little annoying, and Clint is a partner worthy of praise, it doesn’t matter how drunk he is, he keeps his promise of accompanying him all night, because, hey, he hasn’t drink the half of what he can, he says when he let go his support to show him that he is totally establish and the only thing he gets is to fall slowly on the floor, his laugh vanishing the little dignity he still had.    

“Hey, Thor, what do you do when…when you’re drunk?” he asks, paused, trying to get with the correct order of his words for what he wants to ask.

“I don’t get drunk”

Clint rises and eyebrow, his left eye almost closing by itself. “Nah, you’re making fun of me, man.” Thor laughs, hard, because Clint is poking his ribs with a finger, accusing him of a lie like he was a little child, but Thor doesn’t lie, he doesn’t get drunk, he simply drinks and the alcohol goes away from his body faster than it came, like it evaporates. He remains lucid. “Man, if you never get, drunk, then who…?

“Who?”

“Yeaah, who do you blame for your stupidities?”

This time Thor doesn’t laugh but Clint does, so hard he has to smash the table a couple of times and the drunk man who’s sit next to them listening to their conversation laughs too, though no one invited him, but it doesn’t amuse the God.

“Do you use the alcohol as an excuse, human?”

“But of course! Everybody knows, when you’re drunk, you don’t know what you do…”

Thor doesn’t remember the last or the first time he got himself drunk, it was so much time ago, when he was just a teen and he and Loki sneaked into the kitchens late at night. He doesn’t remember how he got back to his chambers, he doesn’t remember anything’s he said, or did, or how hard he laughed back then, he just remembers that Loki, a little before falling in that state too, was saying absurd jokes and writhing in the floor convulsing because the senseless laugh. And then he thinks that the little and absurd human is right, when you’re drunk, you don’t know what you do.

“You can do the biggest stupidity of your life” goes on Clint gesticulating exaggeratedly “and no one could bla-blame you directly because you, not even you, know what, what was what you did man. That’s why” he has rest on Thor’s shoulder and he points to his face really close, poking his cheek, playing with his beard when almost like an illumination he has noticed that the texture is different, “I always let someone else, invite me to drink.”

Because then the faults falls indirectly on the person who take him to where he could get drunk, and without feeling guilty at all, Thor smiles once again, because humans are easy to corrupt even if you didn’t mean it, his brother could have done it easily even he wasn’t trying.

Clint rests on his shoulder and gets close, a weird grin frozen on his face when he gets close and he kisses him clumsily; clumsily a hand on his crotch, maybe clumsily thinking he looks fine, and suddenly Thor thinks that maybe he does, and he knows too that because he’s drunk, now he can’t blame him.  


	3. at the third day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Clint/Loki

The last thing that he knew about himself was that he was running in a street he didn’t know, trying to get away from the police. His brother had betrayed him, but more than being annoyed he felt emptiness in his chest, a piece of his heart that had been ripped away. Maybe he had tripped over while running, yes, he remembered something, a young man dressed in black looking into the sky as it wasn’t raining and that looked at him with something that oscillate between pity and anger. A second after that his head was hitting the floor, and by the morning he was waking up in a chamber that he had never seen before, in a bed more comfortable than any he could ever get, even when he had parents, and the man in black was sitting beside him, with a hand on his forehead and a glowing blue on his chest. And suddenly he didn’t feel that empty. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore, his brother was a little point in his past, his life was something that happened, maybe not, how to know? Was there someone who could remember? 

When evening fell the man in black was no more a strange face, his name was Loki, son of Odin, prince of Asgard, or what was left of him even if he didn’t pronounce it; he wasn’t the man in black under the rain anymore, he was a prince and he wore such attire. He fed him, he gave him a drink and he told him that he wasn’t there to enjoy, he had been brought here and healed with a purpose, now his life was Loki’s until he wasn’t usefulness anymore, then he maybe would be benevolent and would let him return to Midgard. He didn’t know if he wanted to comeback.

“You were born to be an archer” he said “I have seen you and I have decided that your services are required, and if you do well then you could earn your own life. Tell me your name, human.”

He didn’t know if that meant that, if he didn’t accomplish his task he will take his life or simply will let him die, faraway from everything that he knew once but, did he have something to come back for? He didn’t know anymore and he couldn’t feel like that was something important.

“Clint. Clint Barton.”

“Clint, for now on you will be Hawkeye, you will see beyond the horizon, as far as any man had ever could and your life will be to serve to Loki until he decide the contrary. If you don’t accomplish your task you will be relegate of your charge, and if you pretend to escape you will be shut away with no food nor water until you learn your place.”

Clint didn’t pretend to escape, he couldn’t remember why he would want to be in another places, he couldn’t remember if there was some another place for him; he only knew that now there was a place where he was supposed to be. Now he was the eye that sees beyond the horizon, as far as any man had ever could or will ever could.

He was given a bow and arrows, a golden armor and a mission: to be the best warrior in everything he did, to finish with everything that get close even before he could see it.

At the third day, Hawkeye was brought before a golden man, with blonde hair and a charismatic smile that he wiped out of his face when Loki entered in the room. Loki shivered for a second, his eyes filled with an anxiety that disappeared faster than it arrived, and fleeting but perceived by the last person who supposedly could do it, the human who was at Loki’s side, little and insignificant like is always a human among gods. Clint, who that morning was called to accomplish an important mission, knew he couldn’t shot to the only man in that room who, his guts were saying, deserved it. Maybe it wasn’t his own momentum; perhaps it was only the part that the younger son of Odin had left inside him to heal him, that blue blaze that kept him at his side without knowing if he had or not a place to go. Or perhaps it was only empathy, the treason he could feel in the air.

The brother who hadn’t known to keep his loyalty and love where it should had stay.

“Thor.”

“Brother, what does bring you to this reunion?” implicated ‘to which you haven’t been invited’, “Perhaps you have decided that you crave for Odin’s favor too and have get a warrior skillful enough to win it? Is a human what you have there?”

There was a collective laugh with the last affirmation, the reality of how ridiculous was a human as an Asgardian warrior hitting suddenly with so much strength, but never enough to undo Clint’s determination. He had a mission that was to be accomplished at verbatim; to look beyond the horizon like any other creature had looked before, and to serve to Loki, son of Odin, in everything that was required; even if that meant to serve to Thor too, the golden man in which blood circulated the treason to a brother, he knew even if no one had dared to say it.

“You have risen this morning full of questions, brother” was Loki’s answer “I have come here not for me but for you. I know for good source that you haven’t get a warrior”  a grimace from Thor filled Loki with satisfaction, “I have a warrior who wishes to prove himself and you need our father’s favor. Favor that, I remember you, you will not get without a warrior who emerges victorious from the fair.”

“What do you ask in exchange?” a question from who knows that nothing in life is free, at least not in a deal with Loki, and there is pain in the chest of the younger, a pain from the one who could do anything with nothing in exchange. A pain from the one who wants acknowledgment that he doesn’t dare to ask. A pain from the one who has learn to trick like no one else in order to save the little dignity he still has.

“I want my own castle. A modest dwelling to me and my human, build with river stone at the limits of the lands that concern to Asgard, at the south.”

Thor tightened his hands around his chair, like one who is holding back for saying something private, a gesture between desolation and wrath. 

“Well! So be it! I, Thor, son of Odin, will make your castle with my own hands if your little and insignificant human grants to me our father’s favor. But if your little midgardian ends up loser then he will be sacrificed. With no tricks or excuses, Loki! If your human loses, your human dies, those are the rules.”

“My human will not lose, brother. And you will regret sub estimated him. My human could end with your life right know if I ask him so.”

Even relegated as he was from the situation, Clint knew about the explicit ‘why don’t you ask him so?’ in Thor’s gaze, and about the Loki’s silence that went beyond his lips.

Clint didn’t lose the fair. He fought for Thor in Loki’s name and in Loki’s name he won, but no like the little and insignificant human he was; he won like Hawkeye, like the one who can sees beyond the horizon, who puts the arrow in his enemy’s heart without even meeting his gaze.

Clint didn’t lose the fair and it took Thor two days with its nights, without rest, to finish the stone castle that he had promised to his brother. Clint never knew what was the favor he earned for Thor, when he was rewarded they were already faraway, at the south borders, where Loki could summon the snow.

Clint didn’t lose the fair and he knew little of what happened afterwards, when Loki took him to the stone castle and gave him an icy kiss, lips so cold they chilled his heart, what was left of him in the paused gesture of a blink.

He was once Clint Barton, the boy with the bow at the circus. He was once servant of Loki. He was once Hawkeye, and he was once the human warrior who won Odin’s favor for Thor. But there, in the stone castle and with the heart as cold as Loki’s body that was pressed against him by the nights, in an embrace full of melancholy, maybe he was just a child, the child he had always been, the child he never stopped begin. There, at the south of Asgard where the snow fell with no apparent reason, perhaps they were two lonely children keeping company.


	4. at the fourth day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Stony

It’s cloudy outside and he can’t see any star, the room is cold because the heating is shit and the air seeps from the bad sealed window’s slits and the door; the place is bad, definitely bad and probably the hour and the reason to be there are bad too, but Tony doesn’t care, it’s not the first time he finds himself in a place like that, but probably it is the first time for that reason to be there.

It’s not his custom to go to the streets at night and pay for rooms in seedy motels and neither it is to look for company, most of the time he’s looking the way to stay alone, he knows it even if it doesn’t look like that, making big parties that let his house messy and as empty or emptier than before, the silence rumbling in the walls stronger after all the noise. 

The blond guy is still standing at the door and Tony thinks that at least now it is closed, and there are no drunken peepers passing by holding the hand of a prostitute that steals their wallets. Tony isn’t drunk, but he cannot say the same about the prostitute. It’s not a girl but a boy, and long ago he hadn’t had something sexual to do with a boy, not since he was at high school when he had casual sex with a friend after discovering he was bisexual and that he liked it. Tony didn’t know how to say no, because he had the firm conviction (maybe he still has it) that if there was something that you could try then you should do it before regretting not doing it. After that he had some encounters, never like this one.

The boy is eighteen years old, seven less than Tony, and his name is Steve. He is blonde, tall; taller than Tony and it’s frustrating because the boy is younger, so he repeats to himself what he has told to himself all his life about height. ‘Not because they’re taller they’re bigger’, he knows he is giant, he is a genius, a rich boy since always because he can, because he wants, and everything he wants he does it, and if he can’t he gets someone who can, because he can do everything he wants and wants to do everything he can. The boy’s eyes are blue and there is a light brightness of fear in them, as whose is fighting with himself, and Tony knows it better than any other thing.

You’re not afraid, you can do it. You’re not afraid, you can do it. It’s a difficult mantra, heavy, the kind of words that let fall over you much more of what you can stand when you just get out of adolescence, but actually it’s incredible the amount of things you can do when there is no other option. 

Steve haven’t say a word since he got on his car; he put the security belt and he hung on to it strongly without realizing it and he looked out the window all the way, a way he didn’t know where will it take him but that he was willing to cross.

Tony doesn’t ask because it’s not of his concern, Steve is the one who starts talking when at last he gets away from the door with a long sigh, his back rigid. He talks because he knows Tony was about to tell him that he was not going to force him to do anything, the room was paid and Tony could get out from there, without paying him of course, is what everyone says to Steve when they see him stay still like a rock. It weighs him because he had left go the most of them and he isn’t proud about it. Steve is virgin, he’s the kind of boy that follows the rules and lives his life according to the laws and in the correct way. It’s a good boy and it shows, with those simple wasted jeans and a plaid shirt, he doesn’t look like a prostitute, he looks like a farmer or a realtor, it doesn’t matter how open his shirt is because his shoes are black and closed and the only thing a little out of place is the black leather jacket, and if he is sincere, Tony has been wondering why a boy like him got close to his window when he stopped in the street; Tony just said ‘get in’, he didn’t even look at him, he doesn’t even know how much he charges. For a boy like him he would pay a lot, but money is not a problem for Tony and probably it isn’t for Steve, then what the hell is he doing there? But Tony doesn’t ask, he’s not of the ones who ask, he’s of the ones who assume.

Steve is not the kind of boy who would do these things, he says to himself. It’s not that kind of boy, but he’s the kind of boy that woke up one day and realized he didn’t like his life, that it was boring, that he wanted something else because it didn’t matter if now he was alone, that if couldn’t be a hero or a villain then he wanted to do something bad, break some rules, something everyone say he shouldn’t do, he couldn’t do. A whim. Steve wasn’t the kind of boy who prostitutes, but he was the kind of stubborn boy, who, when an idea crosses his mind, he grasps to it until it is done, he never retracts, it doesn’t matter what he has to do. Why the streets? Not even Steve knows certainly, he woke up a night not far for this one, got out to the street and all those people were already there, doing their job; then a car stopped beside Steve, a woman beyond her forties, rich, well dressed, the lust marked in her face for year of being corrupted with it; she asked him how much he charged, he looked at her for a long minute, hands in his empty pockets, not for need but for like and he said ‘one hundred’, the woman opened the door and he got in. He didn’t have sex with her, the only thing she wanted to do was to touch him and satisfy him, a satisfaction he wasn’t looking for but that he found.

He came back the next night, and the next to that, even if there were days in which he didn’t get in any car.

Tony knows he isn’t joking, he’s too naive to joke. He laughs and opens Steve’s shirt, Steve is smooth like child and Tony has the impression this may be illegal in more sense of what he thought at the beginning, but he is man that have always attack the rules.

He likes Steve, with that face of knowing everything and nothing and those innocent eyes, the way in which his hands full of scars scrapes his chest skin and his smooth hair, blonde and pure, the mix of races in Tony suddenly hits him and it feels heavy but in some good sense, it makes him feel strong, steady, not only because of what tightens in his pants, but because he had never seen it with such clearness.

He stands up, he stays in his shirt and while he’s taking away his belt and unbuttons his pants, he tells the boy a story. The story of a genius kid who grew up very fast because he didn’t want to look like an idiot. The story of a rich kid who was given all what others kids could ask but never what he wanted. He doesn’t know why he is telling him, maybe because he believes in the give after receive, or maybe because he can, because he likes to show off and because the boy doesn’t seem to understand that while he is talking he is boasting and that he has been making fun of him a couple of times while he converses. Tony likes him, he decides. Tony never was given what he wanted so he learned to take it by himself.

He doesn’t touch Steve anymore, he lets him do his job with his mouth, because it seems as he likes to use it, and it’s not the best blowjob Tony has had, he could pay for one a thousand times better, but he knows that probably having Steve on his knees is something priceless.

When Steve is done and cleans his mouth with his shirt fist, Tony bows down and kisses him. Tony is alone in his house and it’s a very big house. Probably there’s no ne waiting for Steve neither, and when Tony asks him if he wants to make him some more company, Steve doesn’t decline. Perhaps for one night, perhaps for all morning, perhaps to change a life he didn’t like it.


	5. at the fifth day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Thor/Tony

Is not that he doesn't respect him, is that Tony never believed in god, and while Thor is strolling around with no much modesty and with the rigth that he doesn't has if Stark, the owner of the house doesn't give it to him, he can't say that he has more reasons to believe just because Thor says that he is one. 

Not when he wears small cloud's pajamas, eats waffles for breakfast in his kitchen and spent the evenings watching tv with a cup full of Pepsi in his hand. Not when he has to stand up to fill it up again and loses the control between the cushions of the couch.

Tony can not accept that God is someone with so few scruples and so much humanity, albeit being a spoiled child give him extra points, he can not accepted it yet; just because he doesn't know anything about the world, The Captain does not know either and he was just frozen some years, lost in the ice. Maybe he is just an alien, but it’s too much to say that he is a God; when one day he came to his garden and ashamed asked if he could stay.

Not when he is also a child who occasionally escapes from his father because there are problems that are hard to solve.

Tony never believed in God, and is easier for him to see a man in Thor than a divinity. Maybe because he always had a weakness for the blond, tall and burly ones, if it was about admiring the beauty of another man who was not himself; and if is not a god then Tony feels less disturbed when he gets close to look at him once he has hopelessly fallen asleep with his feet hanging off the seat and his head resting on the back, snoring slightly, hair scattered.

Tony believes that if there is a God, he surely wouldn’t let him sit on its lap, much less if he says that is for the sake of science, because surely God is not interested in science, that whore that has replaced him in the minds of many men. 

If there's a God, he surely would have eyes as blue as the sky, golden hair like the sun, but he wouldn't shine with that ignorant naivety. If there's a God then he would have to know everything, what other reason could there be for follow him if he doesn’t know everything at all times?

He does not believe in God, no matter if Thor can control lightning and call the storms. Because if Thor was a God he wouldn’t be surprised with drowned noises while he kiss him. If he was a God he would have seen it coming. If he was a god it couldn't be that easy to drag him.

If he was a God he might have returned to his kingdom when he saw Tony's intentions and hadn't followed him into the room.


End file.
